


Petit trésor

by anastasiapullingteeth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Codependency, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiapullingteeth/pseuds/anastasiapullingteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan and Grantaire have been together for a while, but they don't talk about it. Jehan got the idea that maybe the artist is in love with someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petit trésor

"Jehan, listen. I know it's painful, but it's better to accept it at once."

"Enough, Montparnasse. You already said what you had to say, now get out of here." Jean Prouvaire tried to close the door of the apartment, but the man in the leather jacket standing before him stopped it.

Montparnasse had sent a text saying he needed to see him urgently. It'd been quite a few months since Jehan broke up with him, but Montparnasse hadn’t stopped trying to contact him. Grantaire always made fun of it saying that he texted him more now than when they were dating, which it was, well, true. The poet had ignored them all, but this one in particular seemed important, he thought the man might need help, so naively he’d told him he could come to his apartment. It was clear that'd been a mistake.

"D'you not understand? I saw them myself!" the man cried, holding the door with his hand. "I know you have something with that painter, I’m just trying to spare you some pain.”

"Whatever happens between Grantaire and me, do not concern you. Now, go away."

"Okay, I'm out. But I hope you remember my words when that loser breaks your heart. He doesn’t love you, Jehan, he’s madly in love with that golden boy, his fine marble." Montparnasse took a step toward him and held one of his hands. "You know no one will ever love you like I love you," he said, kissing his knuckles.

Jehan removed his hand violently and slammed the door shut. "You know where to find me, babe" Montparnasse whispered through the wood. When the poet heard footsteps descending the staircase, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes tightly. What if it was true?

No, it couldn’t be, Grantaire would never do that to him.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire arrived five minutes late to the meeting, which honestly was not new to anyone. He sat at his usual table at the corner of the Cafe and leaned to his left to whisper something to Jehan, but the poet wasn’t there. The artist scanned the room but there wasn’t trace of the boy anywhere.

"We have to stop this initiative if we want to prevent-"

"Has anyone seen Jehan?" Grantaire interrupted, raising his voice above Enjolras’s .

"No, Grantaire, he’s not here yet. Now, if you please-" In that moment, the door cracked open, giving way to a very flushed Jehan. The boy raised his hand as an apology and took a few steps to the center of the room, Grantaire smiled when he saw him coming. However, to everyone's surprise the poet sat down at the only empty table left, significantly away from the artist.

"Uh... Yes, the initiative ... As I said, we need to stop it before it ..."

Grantaire stood up as quietly as possible and approached Jehan. Before he could sit down, the chestnut haired boy shook his head firmly and stared at Enjolras. Grantaire had no choice but to return to his place with a pout.

When the meeting ended, Courfeyrac placed a hand upon Jehan’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear; Grantaire walked toward them. "Grantaire?" _Great_. He turned on his heels and faced Enjolras.

"Yes, oh mighty leader?"

"Don’t forget what we talked about, okay?"

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. Can I go now?" By the time he left the Musain, Jehan was gone. He pulled out his cellphone and typed a message:

**_To: Jehan_ ** _. ive a shift at the Corinth tonight. see ya in a few hours._

He hesitated before sending it. After a while of staring at the screen, he finally pressed the button. There was something else he wanted to say, but it didn’t seem the right time.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire arrived at two o'clock and found Jehan huddled on the couch with his eyes fixed at the TV. He was very pale and his nose was tinted red. Grantaire leaned in the back of the couch and laced his fingers through his friend’s hair. “What are you watching?" he asked in a whisper.

"Grantaire?” Jehan said, glaring at him as if just noticing his presence.

"Hey." Grantaire smiled sweetly and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "What’s wrong? You don’t look so good."

"Yeah, nothing, I’m great.” The boy suddenly got up and ran to his bedroom. "I'll go to sleep, I have to get up early."

"Why? It's Saturday..."

"Yes, but ... I'm going for a coffee with Courf."

"Oh, okay... good night." Jehan smiled and closed the door, Grantaire felt something strange in his stomach.

He'd lived with Jehan for nearly three years. They'd always been good friends and showed their fondness on a peculiar way. The platonic kisses, touches and cuddles were part of their relationship and his friends saw it as normal between them. Until two months ago.

After Jehan broke up with Montparnasse, the little poet had slipped into his bed searching comfort. The affair with the dandy had been very uneasy and had hurt him severely; it would cost a lot to go back to who he used to be. At first, they just slept; Grantaire would wrapped his arms around Jehan until he fell asleep with his head leaning on the artist’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Two months ago, after snuggling in bed, Jehan had kissed him. Grantaire knew it was different from the moment their lips touched and he couldn't find in himself to stop. The caresses got heated quickly and the inevitable happened. The morning after, Jehan traced a line of kisses down his jaw and whispered in his ear: "Next time, I'll be in charge". After that, they fell into some kind of routine that none of them wanted to talk about. They were comfortable with whatever they have and would leave it that way.

The bed was very cold when Grantaire settled himself between the sheets.

 

* * *

 

When Jehan entered the coffee shop, Courfeyrac greeted him from the table where he was sitting at. After the barista had placed their orders in front of them (cafe mocha for Courf and lavender tea for Jehan), the brunet looked at him intently and said: "Well, speak, what’s going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Yesterday, you were acting all weird and didn’t even sit with Grantaire. And don’t you try to play the innocent, I realized time ago you’re more than friends, let me tell you. Did you argue or...?"

Jehan sighed wearily, trying to ignore the blush that rose on his cheeks.  “No, anything like that. But I think... I think it's over."

"The what?"

"This, this nameless thing between Grantaire and me it’s over."

"... That doesn’t explain much, sorry."

Jehan took a sip of his tea and twitched his fingers slightly. "Montparnasse came to see me yesterday."

"Wow, wow, wow, hold on. You didn't get back together, right? The guy’s a jerk!"

“No, of course not. But he said something... interesting." Jehan hesitated before speaking. He knew that as soon as the words were out of his mouth, everything would be more real. Courfeyrac watched him closely, urging him to continue. "He said that... he saw Enjolras and Grantaire talking outside the library."

"... I admit it's kinda weird they were talking and not shouting, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"He hugged him, Courf. Grantaire hugged him." Jehan's eyes glistened with tears. "Montparnasse said Grantaire’s in love with Enjolras and I think he's right. You’re always teasing them with it at every opportunity! Apparently his feelings are returned, after all."

"No, that's not... that's not true. He'll never do that to you..."

"We've never talked about this, he really doesn’t owe me any explanation, does he?"

"Do you love him?"

"... Yes."

"Then trust in him. Whatever it is, he's gonna tell you. You know him better than anyone and... tell him about how you feel. I think it's for the better.”

Yes, talk to him, that was the best. Just that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

 

* * *

 

No, Grantaire wasn’t anxious. Courf and Jehan had gone out, so what? They were friends, friends do that. Grantaire himself sometimes hung out with Joly and Bossuet or Bahorel, that meant nothing. That Courfeyrac were the greatest flirter on the city meant nothing, that Jehan had rejected him the day before definitely meant nothing... He shook his head trying to get those thoughts out of his mind. He’d to finish that painting for next week, he needed to concentrate.

Grantaire was adding a few more strokes to the canvas when he heard the front door. He ran down the hall and tripped with books and beer cans on his way out. "You came back."

As soon as Jehan saw him, his cheeks turned a deep shade of red. "Hi. Can we... can we talk?"

_Oh, oh._

The two of them sat down on the couch, leaving a meaningful distance in between. Grantaire drummed his fingers on his knees. "Montparnasse came to see me yesterday," the poet began.

"... What? Did he do something? I swear, if he hurt you-"

"No, he didn’t, he just wanted to... talk." Jehan told him word by word what the man had said. When he finished, the expression on Grantaire’s face was dark. It was clear he was furious, but Jehan wasn’t sure why exactly.

"And the idiot didn’t tell you what happened after that, did he?"

"... You aren’t denying the hug, though." Jehan pointed.

"No, I’m not. But I _do not_ want you to jump to conclusions, 'kay?" Grantaire scratched his neck nervously. "Yes, I hugged Enjolras BUT, for starters, it was the most awkward thing ever, remind me never do it again. And I did it 'cause... he did me a favor?" Jehan cocked an eyebrow. "Argh, it was supposed to be a surprise.  Okay, remember that flower festival next week?" The poet nodded. "Remember we weren’t able to go because it interfered with that thingy with the fliers? Well, I may or may not have 'persuaded ' Enjolras to free us from going with them, so we could spend the entire weekend at the festival." Jehan didn’t react for a few seconds, Grantaire began to feel nervous. "But... maybe you don’t want me to come with you." He stood up slowly. "I'm sure Courf will accept if you ask him.”

Jehan caught his wrist. He was standing next to him and before Grantaire could do anything, the poet clung to his neck and kissed his lips effusively. Grantaire hugged him around the waist and carried him until his calves hit the couch, on where he sat down with Jehan on his lap. "I guess that's a yes?"

"Of course, you goof." The boy giggled. "But tell me, how did you convince Enjolras to let us go?"

Grantaire buried his head in the crook of Jehan's neck. "Let's say I have to write a few essays for him. I don’t do my own homework and now I have to do his, pfff."

"Well, I'm sure you can start with that tomorrow." Jehan smirked while playing with the collar of Grantaire's shirt.

Yes, the world could wait for tomorrow, now he had something or rather,  _someone_  to do.


End file.
